


Pick Me Up

by TheHeadphoneGirl



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Background Case, Co-workers, Comfort, Drinking, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Phone Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Workplace Relationship, age gap, kind of, more bed sharing, more drinking, you'll know what i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27557356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeadphoneGirl/pseuds/TheHeadphoneGirl
Summary: "Pick-Me-UpnounA thing that makes one feel more cheerful"also known as drunk calling your boss, surprisingly.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Comments: 27
Kudos: 248





	1. Chapter 1

You didn’t think you’d ever been happier to finish a case. 

It had been one of the longest weeks of your life, and you didn’t want to think about it anymore. You wanted to drink and make stupid decisions. So that’s what you were going to do. 

You didn’t expect for that to be drunk calling your boss at 2am asking him to come pick you up, however.  
You were sitting on a curb outside of a bar, your dress stained, your heels sitting in the gutter and your lipstick smudged. You knew you looked like a mess. You knew the chances of you throwing up were high; but the idea of being alone was a bit too much for your current mental state. You knew if you could trust anyone to help you, it was Hotch. 

You and Hotch hadn’t gotten off to the best start. You found him stand offish and arrogant while you think he saw you as childish and a liability in the field. You had managed to get shot within your first 6 months at the BAU and since then he just seemed to not trust you to handle yourself.  
But, around a year since you started, you saw a change in the relationship. You had all gone to a bar one night after a case with the local police, and you were getting some unwanted attention from a detective. 

“Listen, all I’m saying is, you’re too uptight!” he slurred, while stepping far too close for comfort, “Why don’t I help you relax?” 

You pushed him back from you with an awkward smile, “You know what? I’m okay thanks.” 

You attempted to walk back towards your table where the team were waiting, watching the whole exchange. He then grabbed your wrist and pulled you so that you went over your ankle; you yelped out in pain. 

“Listen sweetheart,” he breathed in your ear, “I’ve been nice till now, so why don’t you sit that ass back up on that bar stool.” 

You assumed that your facial expression gave away how angry and uncomfortable you were, as Morgan, Rossi and Hotch walked up behind you. You didn’t know this, however. So you plastered a smile on your face, and gently took his hand off of your wrist. He seemed to think he was getting somewhere as he started smirking; that was of course until you twisted his middle finger back until he was buckled on his knees. “I said no detective, so how about you move along before you get embarrassed anymore.”

You then let go, threw back what was left of your drink and turned around to see 3 thoroughly impressed agents. Morgan was grinning like an idiot, then ordered you another drink. Rossi just looked vaguely impressed while walking back to your table and pulling your chair for you. Hotch just looked as he always did. That same expression, except you could see the corner of his mouth fighting the beginning of a smile. 

You picked up the drink Morgan had ordered you, and started to walk back to your seat. However you had forgotten the pain in your ankle and stumbled slightly. It was at this point Hotch offered you an arm in an attempt to make it easier to walk. You hesitated then took it. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, almost under his breath. 

You chuckled lightly, “I’m fine, thanks.”

You shared a look at that point. You honestly didn’t know what was behind his smile, but you liked to think it was respect. 

You didn’t know why the team seemed to find this so surprising. They had seen you take down unsubs before. Hell, you’ve shot people before; you just gave this guy a fright so that he would reconsider the next time he did something like that. You guessed it was your appearance; it didn’t really scream combat enthusiast. But that worked for you! You seemed unassuming, so people trusted you, or underestimated you. 

Since that night, Hotch made sure to never make the latter mistake ever again. You two got close and this wasn’t the first time one of you had called the other, drunk and in need of a pick me up. 

You heard him pick up the phone after a few rings. “Aaron Hotchner?” 

“You’re so serious man, why don’t you just say hi like a normal person?” You slurred. You heard him sigh, “Y/L/N it’s 2:30am, what’s wrong?” 

“You sober?” you asked but it all managed to slur into the one word. 

“…Yes?” 

“I’m not. Come get me?” 

You heard shuffling around on the other end, “Where are you?” 

You gave him the address and hung up. You put your heels back on and attempted to straighten yourself up a bit, you didn’t want to look completely pathetic. You stood up and tried to gain some balance but you could feel yourself failing. Luckily you saw him pull up and managed to bundle yourself into the car. 

“Hi dad!” You gave him a goofy smile which he didn’t return. 

“Don’t call me that, are you alright?” 

“Pfft I’m fine boss, how’re you?” 

He didn’t answer your question. “If you’re fine why did you call me at 2 in the morning to come pick you up?” 

You went quiet for a minute then mumbled, “Didn’t want to be alone, sorry.” 

He sighs, “Don’t say you’re sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

There was silence for a minute as you started getting sleepy, then you noticed you were going downtown instead of uptown towards your apartment. 

“Where we going?” you yawned out. 

“My house, you’re staying in the guest room tonight; I don’t want you choking on your own vomit.” You gave him a sleepy smile, “You’re disgusting and sweet. It’s weird.” 

He chuckled. 

Before you knew it you were at Hotch’s house. You turned to him before he got out the car, “Are you sure? I don’t want to wake up Jack.”

“He’s still at his aunt’s house, I’m picking him up tomorrow morning.” 

You went to argue but he cut you off. 

“You’re staying Y/N. That’s an order.” 

You gave him a light smile as he got out of the car. “Don’t give me orders Hotch, I’ll get you confused with someone important.” 

He glared at you, but his eyes had laughter behind them. 

You managed to get out the car with little incident, but needed to lean on Hotch to make it to his door. Damn heels. 

He smelled good. 

“…Thanks.” 

You froze up. “…have I been drunk mumbling again?” 

He smirked, opening the front door. “Barely this time, Just ‘damn heels’ and ‘you smell good’.”

You shrugged walking through the door, “I stand by my statement.” 

You heard him chuckle as you flung yourself onto the couch and kicked off your shoes. “Hotch why do I make bad choices?” 

He flung his keys on the table and sat down at your feet on the couch, “That’s like asking why dogs’ bark; it’s just who you are.” 

You kick him in the ribs. “I hate you.” 

“I know. You want to go to bed?” 

You nodded sleepily. “How many stairs do you own again?” 

He chuckled, then sighed. “Hold on, one second.” 

Your face was still buried into the pillow when you felt him stand up. You lay there for a few seconds before you felt an arm dip under your waist and another under the backs of your knees. Almost instinctively you clumsily swung your arm round his neck before burying your head into his chest. 

“You know you should really just make me walk, I don’t want to be responsible for crippling a pensioner.” 

He stopped walking, then let go for a millisecond so you were in free fall. You tightened your grip on his neck and yelped. He laughed. You punched his chest a few times while kicking your legs. 

“You’re a fucking sadist Aaron, if you do that again I’ll throw up.” 

He shrugged as he started climbing the stairs, “Then don’t call me a pensioner.” You shot him a glare, which he returned. Neither of you meant it. He carried you into the spare room then stood you up. You smoothed out your dress and mumbled a thank you. He nodded. “I’ll get you something to sleep in, you can use the bathroom.”

It wasn’t so much a suggestion as an order. “Okay, thanks.” 

He left and you padded into the bathroom. You managed to clean your face relatively well, though the lipstick was being a pain. You came out of the bathroom just as Hotch entered your bedroom for the night. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t seem to have a lot of women’s clothes.” He said throwing an old t-shirt and sweatpants on the bed. 

“I’d be more worried if you did, to be honest.” You said picking up the t-shirt and sizing it against your frame, “Jesus Hotch, no wonder you wear suits all the time, these are massive.” 

He shot you a look. “I can take them back?” 

To you it felt like a challenge, so you threw the sweatpants back to him. “The t-shirt’ll be fine thank you.” 

You went to start taking off your stained dress before you remembered that would be a weird thing to do in front of your boss. 

He just looked at you, while you clutched the hem of your dress. You let go, put your hands on you hips and tutted. “To think I thought you were a gentleman.” You were joking, but you saw him blush before he turned around. 

“I’m not leaving in case you fall and bang your head off the dresser or something.” 

You could hear a tone of slight amusement in his voice. “Sure Hotch, whatever you have to tell yourself.” You said taking off your dress, “But if you turn around before I tell you to, I’m strangling you with my bra.” 

You heard him chuckle before muttering, “Worse ways to go.” 

The t-shirt really was huge, it looked more like a nightdress on you. A really hideous nightdress. You lay down on the bed and struck an over exaggerated pose; like the ones women make in perfume adverts. 

“Okay you can turn around now.” You said with a massive smile. He turned around and saw you on the bed. “What d’you think? It’s high fashion right?” 

You expected him to laugh, to tell you to go to bed. You thought he’d maybe look at you like you were a major inconvenience, which you really were at the moment.  
But he didn’t. He just looked at you. He looked at you with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. And something else. You weren’t sure, but was it, lust?”  
You suddenly weren’t smiling anymore. It didn’t seem so funny now. 

Sure, you thought Hotch was attractive. And you had recognised that if he wasn’t your boss that he’d be your type. But he was your boss. You didn’t allow yourself to think about that kind of stuff, you couldn’t let it interfere with your work. 

Yet here you were, giving Hotch the same look you give guys at bars to encourage them to buy you drinks. You let yourself chuckle. “I think I should maybe go to bed.” You say sitting up. 

Hotch seemed to get pulled out of whatever trance he was in. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea. Let me know if you need anything.”  
“Thanks boss, I owe you one.” You say with a small smile, which he returns. “No you don’t. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Goodnight Hotch.” 

You fell asleep thinking about warm hands and a strong chest. 

You woke up with tears streaming down your face and a pounding in your head. The nightmares had always been bad for you. You were learning to deal with them, but that was a bad one. You were about to turn the lamp light on when Hotch came bursting into the room, glock in hand. 

“What’s wrong?” He said clearly confused looking around the empty room. He wasn’t the only one. 

“What the fuck do you mean what’s wrong? I was sleeping.” You rubbed your eyes and turned on the lamp. 

He lowered his gun. “I…I thought I heard you screaming?”  
You paused and then sighed, “I’m sorry, I, Uh, I had a nightmare. I must’ve screamed in my sleep.” You saw pity cross his eyes, followed swiftly by concern. He put the gun on the dresser. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

You gave him a sad smile, “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow though.” 

He nodded. You stayed there in silence for a minute. He looked around the room, seeming to look for something that would help. 

Your dumbass hero. 

“Hotch go back to bed, I’m fine!” You tried to sound convincing. You failed. 

In all honesty you would love to ask him to stay. The idea of being alone after that wasn’t exactly appealing, but that wouldn’t be appropriate. 

Would it? 

He looked at you, then at the space beside you in the bed, then at a chair in the corner. He turned off the light, then sat in the chair. “I’ll go to bed after you get to sleep.” You paused. “What? Hotch, no it’s fine just g-“ 

“That wasn’t a question, Y/N” 

You paused again, weighing up your options. “… fine but you’re not staying in the chair, that’s creepy. There’s a blanket in the cupboard, sit on the other side of the bed.” 

“Y/N that isn’t-“ 

You attempted to copy his tone. “I wasn’t asking Aaron.”

You turned to face the wall with your back to the rest of the bed. There was no movement in the room for a few seconds. Until you heard him shuffle around, then felt the dip in the mattress. You smiled into the pillow. 

“Goodnight Aaron.” 

“Goodnight Y/N” 

You woke up the next morning, not feeling tears stream down your face and a heavy heartbeat, but strong arms around your waist, and a warm steady breath on your ear. 

You decide to drunk call your stupidly sweet boss more often.


	2. Chapter 2

The two of you didn’t speak about it. You rarely did, really. You went back to your steady stream of banter and easy conversation. After all, this had become almost normal. Every few months one of you would get a call, a text, hell once he sent you an email.

Yeah, this is your new normal. 

None of the team knew. Why should they, after all? They were private moments. Sometimes, when you’re alone, you think about the first time Hotch had called you. It started off normal; he was asking you about some mislaid paperwork or something. But it was late, and his voice was slurring slightly. You explained you still had it and it seemed like a natural way to end the call. So you did. Only for him to call you back a few minutes later.

“Hotch?”

“Yes, Y/L/N,...” he went quiet.

You bit the bullet, “Hotch is everything okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”

He let out a bark of laughter, “That's good, I would be worried if you all thought I showed up to work drunk.”

You paused, “You’re drunk at work?”

“Of course not.” Is what you think he said, despite it all coming out like one word. 

Your interest peaked. He seemed in good spirits, no pun intended.

“Then where are you?”

Hotch chuckled, “You’re a profiler, figure it out.”

You pretended to think while going through your phone, “Hmm, I’m gonna say…” you found his icon on the mobile tracking app Garcia insisted on putting on all your phones, “...Downtown, Shaws Bar?”

He was silent for a second, “That was a Fucking good guess.”

You both laughed, Hotch from being impressed more than anything, and you from hearing Hotch say a swear harsher than bastard.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re enjoying it much though.” 

“What makes you think that?”

You sighed, “Well you’re calling your work colleagues for one.”

Once again, he went quiet. 

You eventually talked him into heading home, but when he couldn’t get a taxi and with his phone on 3%, you told him you’d come and get him. He tried to argue, saying it was inappropriate, but you both knew he didn’t have much of an option. 

Everytime after that you both pushed a little further into each other’s lives; learning a little more, touching a little more. Totally innocent, of course. Obviously. Definitely. 

The thing was, you found it very difficult to keep things professional with Hotch, even more so after your little cuddling incident. It didn’t happen again for a while. You’d all been busy; a lot of early starts and late nights so you knew it wasn’t personal. Plus, more often than not it was you calling him. He was the head of an FBI Unit and a single father after all; hardly leaves a lot of time for casual drinking.

You were surprised, due to this, that you got a call from him not 2 hours after the team parted ways. The case was long and difficult, as they often were, but it seemed to hit Hotch a little harder. The ones with kids always did. 

“Y/L/N.”

“And you say I sound serious.”

You smiled, “Hey Hotch what’s going on?”

He chuckled, “Why does something always have to be going on? Can’t I just call you?”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Course you can. Everything okay though?”

He didn’t miss a beat, “Come see me?”

You sighed, grabbing your car keys, “Where are you? Shaws?”

“I’m at home.” You both paused, “Is that okay?”

You froze where you were standing for a second and thought; it was 2am and your boss was asking you to come to his house. It sounded like he’d had a couple of drinks already.

“Sure. Be there in 20.”

You cursed your soft spot for him, grabbed your keys and went out the front door. You then quickly ran back in, grabbed your bottle of wine from the fridge and then left, trying not to think what this would mean for you. 

When you arrived at Hotch’s house you were greeted with him still in his suit, minus the tie and jacket, and a glass of wine. He didn’t say much, except asking you to come in, thanking you for the wine, and “White or Red?”

You opted for white and sat on the couch. He seemed, fine. Quiet but fine. There was strange energy though, like something was hanging in the air. Something quiet but overwhelming.

He joined you after he put the wine in the fridge and you both took a large gulp from your glasses.

“You never answered my question earlier, you know.”

He didn’t look at you. 

Silence. 

You spoke again. “You don’t need to be drunk to open up to me, you know that right?”

He let out a slightly harsh bark of laughter, “You’re profiling me now?”

You put down your wine. “I’m not profiling you Aaron, Stevie Wonder could see you’re not yourself.”

He let out a small smile this time, a real smile, before taking another drink. 

More silence. 

“Is Jack home?”

He shook his head, “Aunt’s house.”

You nodded. “...Are you missing him?”

He ran his hand over his face, “Jesus Y/N, of course I am.” He looked at you properly for the first time that night, “Can we not just-just…” He trailed off.

“I’m struggling. Okay?” There was a layer of frustration in his voice that you definitely didn’t appreciate. “Are you happy?” He threw back what was left of his wine and stood up, presumably to get more. 

You stood up and followed him to the kitchen. “Sorry, run that by me again, are you asking if I’m happy you’re not in a good place?”

He was standing by the island pouring red wine into his glass, “You like that right? Being the one I call when everything goes to shit?” There was that same arrogance you saw in him when you first joined the BAU, and you were angry you hadn’t seen the last of it.

“Do I like that you’re comfortable enough to tell me when you’re struggling? Yeah of course I do, Aaron. It means we’re friends. And don’t fucking swear at me.”

He shot you a quick glare before taking a drink. When he had finished, there was a smile on his lips, but it seemed false. 

“Friends. Is that what we are?”

You stared at him. He let out a joyless laugh, while walking towards you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Y/N, but friends don’t do what we do.”

He said friends like it was a slur. 

“Hotch when you’re ready to stop talking in riddles, and being a dick, you know where I am.”

You put the glass up on the island and turned away from him. You weren’t ready to deal with what he was referring to, and definitely not like this. You weren’t even sure what he was mad about. You suspected he was just frustrated and needed somewhere to put it. But everything about tonight was odd; nothing about this seemed like Hotch. You were almost at the front door now. You paused. 

You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t deserve it. And, when Hotch was more rational, he’d realise that. 

You sighed, and went back to sit on the couch. You were on your phone for a few minutes before Hotch came back in and sat next to you. He’d poured you another glass of wine, and had a glass of water for himself. You didn’t look at each other. 

More silence. 

“I’m not going to leave just because you’ve had a bad day. That’s not how this,” you pointed between the two of you, “works.”

You still weren’t looking at each other, “I know. I’m sorry, you’re right.”

You smirked, “Can I get that in writing?”

You shot each other an amused side glance.

You fell back into your pattern of talking about nothing, laughing and, eventually, drinking. 

Hotch was considerably drunker than you. He was sitting slumped into the corner of the sofa, one arm draping over the back of the couch and the other was loosely holding the glass of wine. You had your feet tucked under his thigh as you sat facing him. You didn’t talk about the argument. 

Of course, until you did.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said, with a relaxed smile.

You nodded while taking a drink.

“Why can’t I swear at you, but you can swear at me?” You both laughed for a minute.

You blew air past your lips before answering. “I don’t know it’s weird when you swear, I swear all the time.” You shrugged, “It’s fine for me to do it.”

He looked slightly confused, still slightly smiling, “What d’you mean it’s weird? Why’s it weird?”

You laughed, “You never do it! Feels like seeing a dog walking on its hind legs,” you shook your head, making a face, “not natural.”

“Ahh so it makes you uncomfortable?”

You nodded taking a drink, then you made your first mistake (apart from showing up). “Yeah, you’re too formal for stuff like that. Like imagine it was normal for you to just,” you paused to chuckle a little, “just swear at the team.”

He laughed, before putting on his boss face, “Prentiss and Morgan to to the M.E, Rossi and JJ go to the first crime scene, and Spencer pick me up a fucking latte.”

You both threw your heads back laughing, before you (attempting your best Hotch face) said, “Morgan where the actual fuck is that paperwork?”

You both laughed some more before Hotch turned to look at you stern as ever. 

“Y/N, get in here and lock the fucking door.”

He laughed. You didn't. 

At some point you’d both sat up from your positions and were closer than was appropriate. He put his hand on your knee while he was laughing, and it felt like it was burning your skin through your sweatpants. You truly hated how much of you liked that. Images of you in Hotch’s office, bent over the desk quickly swam through your head. You tried your best to force a laugh before taking a drink, looking away and leaning back. 

He looked at you, still smiling but with a touch of concern, “Everything alright?”

You shot him a smile, “Course, just already told you, I don’t like it when you swear at me.”

Lying through your teeth to the head of a profiling unit. Very brave of you. 

Thankfully he let it go, and the conversation moved on. 

At one point or another you had moved to the kitchen; you were on your 3rd bottle of wine now and the lines were getting blurry. You knew there was a reason you couldn’t get too comfortable but it kept escaping you. You leaned against the fridge while he poured the wine. 

See, the thing with Hotch was, he was just such a man. You knew how it sounded but your type had always been alpha males or authority figures; throw tall dark and handsome in there and you didn’t stand a chance. You’d done well keeping your crush in check over the past couple of years. You could always see the line you weren’t supposed to cross; you could admire the line in your spare time but crossing it is something you knew wasn’t even on the table.

But recently the line seemed to have more dimension, more layers to it. Yous couldn’t hold hands but he could princess-carry you to bed. Kissing was a no go but calling you to come over at 2am was fine. Sex? Never! Spooning while you wear one of his shirts? Sure! Go nuts!

It was exhausting, truly. To the point where you just wanted to ask, at what point is this beyond a friendship. Then it hit you.

“Oh that’s what you meant earlier.”

He looked up at you, “Sorry?”

You tensed for a second, “I was, uh, just thinking about before. Some of the stuff you said.”

He grimaced and shook his head, “Just ignore that, I wasn’t making a lot of sense.”

You knew you had 2 options. 1) Make a joke and move on.

Or 2)...  
“Well, you weren’t wrong about everything.”

His eyebrow shot up, you looked into your wine glass.

“I guess we have an, interesting friendship.”

He smirked, “Sure, thats one word for it.”

You both went silent, “Not bad though?”

You looked up and gave him a gentle smile, “No, not bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Thank yous so much for your lovely comments and kudos! Heres a part 2! Might be looking at a series here :)


	3. Chapter3

You ended up staying in the kitchen for around an hour, again, talking about nothing. Eventually your feet got tired and you jumped up on the island while talking; when you looked up he was giving you an incredulous but amused look. You cocked an eyebrow while picking up your wine glass.

“What?”

He vaguely gestured to you, “You’re on my countertop.”

You smirked at him, “I can see why you were chosen to head a team of profilers,” you both started laughing, “Truly, I mean this, Sherlock Holmes would end it all if he met you.”

“Shut up.” He laughed.

“No seriously Hotch, you could go full P.I.”

“Just get off my countertop.” He said, waving his wine glass around a little.

“Just hurry up and buy seats for your kitchen island.”

You were both swaying slightly having a stare down. You put your wine glass down and gave him a shit eating grin. He continued attempting to look stern, but there was a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Get down, Y/N.”

“No Aaron,” you shrugged, “I’m perfectly happy up here.”

He raised his eyebrows at you before looking down and smiling into his wine glass, knowing he was beaten.

“Will you ever do what you’re told…” He muttered before taking a drink.

You didn’t think. Your filter disappeared around a bottle of wine ago and words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. You went to take a drink of wine, but instead said.

“Depends what you’re asking me to do, Aaron.”

You froze, glass still raised to your lips. You didn’t look up from the spot you’d been looking at on the floor but could feel Hotch’s eyes boring into you. The humour was gone from the room.

“What did you say?” His tone was indecipherable. 

You took a large drink of wine before shaking your head, still not looking at him. “Forget it, it was a joke. I’ll get off your dumb countertop.” You attempted a laugh and put your glass down. Before you jumped down, Hotch spoke.

“No,” He had caged you in with his hands sitting either side of your thighs (him standing between them); he was at eye level with you now. It was impossible not to look at him; his gaze was locked on your mouth. His lips were slightly parted and you could see the pink tip of his tongue dart out. Your mind went blank; it could’ve been down to the alcohol. It could’ve been down to the sudden close proximity. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath hitting your neck.   
“I said,” His hand moved on to your thigh, your breath hitched as your brain short circuited. “Say That.” You finally locked eyes.  
“Again.

You wanted to make a joke. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to try and evaluate what you did in a past life in order to deserve this kind of torture. You really did. But he was looking at you in a way you weren’t used to, and you were far too used to taking orders from him. 

“I said,” you swallowed, “That depends on what you’re asking me to do.” You were looking at him through your eyelashes. 

“Fucking hell.” 

His mouth crashed into yours and his hand was latched on to your thigh in a way you were almost sure would leave bruises; your eyes rolled back into your head at the thought. The kiss was tactless and messy and desperate. Your fingers laced into his hair while his other arm snaked around your waist. You were now flush against him as he stood between your knees. Eventually you pulled apart; your chests heaving, your foreheads pressed together. Hotch spoke first.

“Do you,” he swallowed, “have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“I’m hoping just as long as I have.”

He let out a breathless laugh. You kissed again, but it was softer this time; more controlled. The hand on your thigh switched so that he was holding it from underneath. The thumb on the other was rubbing small circles on your back. The heat from before was still there, but alongside it was pining and tenderness. Your hands moved from his hair to either side of his neck; you didn’t want to let go of him. You wanted to stay in his arms like that forever. Eventually his hand under your thigh started shifting up and the hand on your waist sunk lower. You could feel the desperation from before slowly start to return; his teeth started to graze your bottom lip and a moan crept up your throat.

Suddenly, alarm bells started ringing in your head. 

There was a reason you shouldn’t be doing this. You froze up. 

Your boss. Your drunk boss. Your drunk, very emotional, boss. 

He felt you tense, and pulled away. 

You gave him as reassuring a smile as you could muster, “Aaron-”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to-”

You put your hands on his forearms, “Aaron this isn’t a good idea. At least,” you nodded toward the wine glass, “not right now.”

He had his forehead rested against your shoulder, “Do you not want this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I just want to make sure you want this.” Your volume level matched his.

His arms pulled you against him again, slipping around your waist.

“I want this. I’ve wanted it so badly,” his mouth started dragging along the column of your neck, “Wanted you...so badly…”

“Aaron…” You meant for it to come out stern, but instead you sounded wanton and breathy.

“Even you saying my name like that,” one of his hands returned to it’s place on the underside of your thigh, “Fuck Y/N, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

He was pulling slightly on the underside of your thigh and you became far more aware of how strong Hotch was; he’d picked you up before but this was different. The point you had been trying to make swam around in your head so you weren’t quite able to pin it down. 

But even in your drunk, horny haze you knew there was a reason that this shouldn’t be happening. 

“How long?” You asked while threading your fingers into his hair. 

He dragged his mouth off of the spot he’d been steadily nipping and sucking at. “What?”

You pulled his head back by his hair and saw his mouth quirk up for a second. 

“How long have you wanted me?” You tried to keep your voice steady.

“Too long.” You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Months, over a year.”

You put your hands on his chest and slowly started pushing him back. You continued to push him as you jumped down off the countertop. The air in the room was thick and you could cut the tension like warm butter; one hand had Aaron gently resting against the fridge while the other brought your wine glass to your lips. You finished what was left of your drink and kissed him again; now that you were at a better angle you could feel him straining against his trousers. He moaned, low and guttural, into your mouth as you positioned yourself between his legs. His hands once again started to make their way lower than your waist, but before they could reach their destination, you pulled back. 

You tried to take a mental picture of him like that; his lips parted and red. His hair tousled. His eyes glazed over in a way you’d only imagined. A flush that ran from his cheeks to below the sanctuary of his white button up shirt. He was breathless and confused. 

“Then you can wait a day, and if you’re sure, we can pick up right where we left off.”

Before he could answer, or you could second guess yourself, you left. The Kitchen and the house. You knew there was a cab company not even 2 streets away. You could pick up your car tomorrow. This way, he had an out; if he woke up tomorrow and thought it wasn’t a good idea then they never had to speak about it again. 

God you hoped you’d speak about it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I'm sorry, think this is going to in 5 parts now, will be back with the last 2 chapters as soon as I can! Thank you all so much for the support :)


	4. Chapter 4

For 2 days, you heard nothing. Part of you expected to be inundated with texts and calls when you got home. But you only had one from him. 

-Did you get home safe?

-Yeah, just through the door.

After that, radio silence. 

You had your answer. He didn’t want this, not really. He’d been drunk and emotional and needed someone; and there you were. You tried really hard not to get too upset about it. You really did. You allowed yourself one day in bed with wine and shit TV; that’s how you usually dealt with this sort of thing. It helped a little but you were still left feeling- well that’s it. You still had feelings for the guy. Hell, and if you didn’t before, making out on his kitchen island like a pair of teenagers certainly didn’t help. The sound of him moaning your name rang through your ears like a cruel reminder of everything you knew you couldn’t have. To be fair you expected all this, to some degree.

What you didn’t expect, was the anger. Even if he didn’t want you the way you wanted him, you thought there would have at least been a conversation. A meeting, a phone call; hell, you’d take the email again. But you got nothing from him. Which meant, come Monday morning, you would need to go in to work and see him. Talk to him. Work with him. All the while, your team couldn’t know something was off. You drank more wine than usual. 

When Monday came, you woke up far too early. You spent the morning doing mindless things: swapping between coffee and tea, changing outfits. You gave yourself a headache trying to get your hair to sit right. In the end, you made a deal with yourself. You would get through today by being kind to yourself. No wondering what could've happened, no making yourself feel shit for being rejected. You were a smart and beautiful woman. You could deal with this. You knew you could (even if you didn't feel you could right now). You also vowed not to initiate anything, whether that was a conversation or an argument. You’d given him an out and he had taken it. You did the responsible, professional thing. 

Well, you did the best you could under the circumstances. 

You met Garcia in the lobby and were pleased to see a friendly face and (without sounding mean) a perfect distraction. She was talking about a new show she had binged over her weekend off when you saw him. You expected a physical reaction; nothing dramatic of course, but something. A blush, a look. A sign.

He looked through you. Like you weren’t there. He was in his office with the door shut before you could even smile at him. 

You gave him the out. He took it. You sighed, reminded yourself you couldn't get mad about this and tried to tune back in to what Garcia was saying.

“...and all the while, he’s basically making them a new house! In a week! Can you imagine?” 

You smiled, “You’re right! The guy deserves more credit.”

You were grateful for there being no on location cases; you could sit at your desk, talk with your colleagues and have no interactions with Hotch. Which was for the best. You knew it was. You knew closure wasn’t real, not really. You would get through this, whether he wanted to talk to you about it or not. And you would move past it. Maybe you’d even be friends again at one point. 

Today would be the hardest day, and it was almost over. You could do this.

Suddenly, your “hype train” as Garcia liked to call it, was interrupted by fingers snapping in front of your face. You looked up to see a concerned Rossi staring down at you.

“You okay kid?” He asked leaning against the side of your desk, “I was trying to get your attention for a good couple minutes.”

You gave him as reassuring a smile as you could muster, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine just one of those days.” 

He put his hand on your shoulder, “That last case was rough, if you need a break I’m sure Hotch could work something out for you?”

You shook your head, “Really Rossi, I’m good. You know I’d tell you if I was struggling.” 

Rossi had taken a shine to you within the first few weeks and you had a sneaking suspicion he was the only reason Hotch hadn’t had you transferred after you got shot. 

He gave you a smile, “If you’re sure,” he stood up, “But if you change your mind, wine and pasta night?”

You laughed, “Don’t tempt me with lasagne Dave, I’ll never leave.” 

He laughed, gave you one last pat on the shoulder and went out the door to the bullpen. You only had 2 more cases to advise on then you could head home. You glanced back up at Hotch’s office; he was standing in his doorway, looking through a file. You supposed he must have gotten up during you and Rossi’s conversation as he definitely wasn’t there before. You made yourself stop looking at him and went back to typing up your advice to a sheriff from Alaska. You had barely written a sentence when you heard Hotch speak. 

“Agent Y/L/N, I need to speak with you.”

By the time you looked up he was already in his office, drawing the blinds. You gulped. Emily who was to the left of you, getting ready to leave, let out a low “oooo” in your direction. You threw a pen at her, smiling, before turning your direction to the open door in front of you. 

So. You were going to talk about this. 

You hated to admit it, but you were relieved. It’s not that you wanted answers from him, you got the message. You just wanted to know where you stood now; were you still friends? Was it a strictly working relationship now?

You closed the door behind you when you entered his office. He was sitting at his desk with the file he’d been looking at laid out in front of him. He was filling out something but you couldn’t tell what form it was. 

“Take a seat.” He didn’t look up at you. Your brow furrowed, but took the seat as instructed. 

He continued not looking at you while you took your seat, and continued to write. Silence. 

You bit the bullet, “You wanted to talk to me?”

Still, no eye contact. “Yes, Fitzgerald’s release form?”

You cocked an eyebrow, “What about it?”

He paused writing for a millisecond, but carried on. “You had it, didn’t you? I need a copy.”

He sounded bored on the surface, but you could see the mild discomfort underneath it. You crossed your legs, trying not to give away how pissed you were in your tone. You were almost done for today. You could be out of here in less than an hour. 

“I gave it to Morgan on Friday. He said he’d make sure you got a copy.”

He sighed. He’d not looked up once. “Fine. Thank you.”

You were being dismissed. In every meaning. You had been sitting, at one particularly low moment, almost in tears over this man. You’d seen your boss take down unsubs twice his size, but you and this conversation he was scared of. You took a deep breath and swallowed while rising from your chair. You could remain calm. You were not going to let it show how mad, how furious you were at how you were being treated. You would be home in a couple hours. You could be angry then. 

You left the room, almost at the stairs down to the now empty bullpen, when you heard him call on you. 

You rushed back. He was still sitting at his desk. Still writing. 

Still. Not. Looking. 

“Hotch?”

“Yes could you close the door behind you? Thank you.”

You saw red. 

You did close the door-well slammed the door would be a better phrase- as you entered his office. Finally he looked up, affronted. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did I break you out of whatever little trance you were in?” he went to open his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “I’m going to be perfectly clear; I’m not mad you turned me down.” you lied, “That’s not what this is about.” He cocked an eyebrow. 

“This,” you said walking up to his desk, “Is about you having no sense of professional courtesy.” He went to speak again, this time standing up, but didn’t get the chance. 

“D’you know I wasn’t sure I’d have a job here anymore? That you had called me in here to tell me I’d be better off somewhere else? You don’t seem to understand, Hotch, how fucking confusing all this was for me.”

“For you?” he all but shouted.

“Yes for me!” You matched his tone and volume, though you weren’t far off it to begin with. “My boss calls me, drunk, at 2am to come to his house, then gets mad at me for coming, and finally, to top it all off, pins me against his kitchen countertop and starts- starts-” You waved around vaguely at him. 

“No, no you can’t put all this on me,” he said walking round so that he was now standing in front of you, “You showed up, you stayed and unless I was far drunker than I thought, you weren’t exactly complaining.”

You felt a blush rise up your neck, but ignored it. “Oh so, what? You’re saying that’s all fine and well for me? That you’re the only one that gets to be at a loss with all this? Gimme a break.” You turned to leave, but he caught your arm. 

“No, you wanna talk about this? Fine, let’s talk.” You shook him off, but didn’t head for the door again. “Why’d you leave?” 

You faltered, “What?” Your tone was more confused than angry.

Something other than rage crossed his face; he almost looked embarrassed in his own way. “Why did you leave?”

You paused, before sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “We were drunk, Aaron. You far more than me. And you weren’t acting like you. The first couple hours I was there I felt like I’d stepped into the twilight zone.” You were mad, of course, but less so now. The tone in the room had went from angry to exhausted in a matter of seconds. 

He sat down on his couch running a hand over his face, “I’m sorry.” 

You thought about sitting next to him, but your better judgement told you no. You leaned against his desk. 

“You don’t seem it.” You hated how petulant you sounded, but it was true. He didn’t seem sorry. Inconvenienced? Sure. Embarrassed? Definitely. But you weren't quite sure how sorry he really was.

He looked at you with a sad sort of smile, “No, I don’t, do I?” He ran a hand over his face, “This is a mess isn’t it?”

You nodded noncommittally, “It didn’t have to be. We could’ve spoken about this.”

He gave you a slightly exasperated look, “And it was up to me to initiate that conversation?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “I left the ball in your court. Not my fault you fucking lost it.”

He half smiled. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything. I am your boss,” you scoffed, he continued, “And older than you. Considerably.”

You could see his point, “But then what does that look like for me? An employee chasing her boss who’s 20 years older than her doesn’t really scream ‘I deserve praise and recognition’.”

He gave you a look before sighing and standing up, “So we agree then?”

You quirked an eyebrow, he continued, “This shouldn’t happen?”

He was standing in front of you now with his arms crossed. He was right; the only logical thing for the two of you to do would be to leave it as it was and try and stay friends. Yous would get over this soon enough; it would become a funny story you told at parties or something. He was giving you an out this time.

But every other part of your body was demanding you went to him, wrapped your arms around him and told him you weren’t going anywhere. That you couldn’t be scared away that easy. 

You were just staring now, less than a foot away from each other. 

It couldn’t last. You could both lose all credibility, or your jobs. It would end in heartbreak and a terrible working situation. 

Why couldn’t you leave goddamn it? Was he closer somehow? He seemed closer.

“Y/N?” He was giving you this soft, caring look. You couldn't stand it. 

Your trance was broken. As tempting as it was, as much as you wanted to stay, your logical side took over. You took the out. 

“I should go, I have work to do.” You left his office without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I have an endgame for this now! Sorry for the wait! Please give me feedback lmao I would really appreciate it :)
> 
> P.S extra points if you know what show Garcia is talking about!


	5. Chapter 5

You finished your work in less than half an hour and were home earlier than you’d been in a while. You considered today to be half of a win; you stayed kind to yourself. You knew your worth. You didn’t let anyone catch on that you and Hotch had- well, done whatever you’d done. 

But you did initiate the argument. Still, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that and you knew you would’ve pulled him up for something like that even if circumstances were different. In your books, it was a successful day. 

You had settled in for the night and were about to watch something in bed in order to try to escape the mess that is your love life, when your phone started buzzing. 

Hotch. 

You prepared yourself for the worst and picked up.

“Hey Hotch, what’s u-” He cut you off. 

“You’re wrong.”

You faltered, “Excuse me?”

He seemed to let out a breath, “Earlier, when we were arguing. You said I turned you down. You’re wrong.” 

Silence, before he muttered, “If anything you turned me down.”

You couldn’t believe this. “Are you telling me you’re calling me at,” you checked the time, “10pm to tell me you think I rejected you? Is that what we’re doing now?” You decided this man was verging on moronic; you were 2 hours away from completing today and he took it upon himself to blame you for saving them both from a world of hurt. You were so close. Your irritation grew. 

“I’m just saying you-” 

Cutting him off, with inconvenience dripping from your tone you said “And I’m just saying we were shit drunk and I did the responsible thing.”

“You’re saying I’m irresponsible?”

You tried to muffle your scoffing. “Let’s go over this again shall we? You ask me to come over at 2am for drinks, I show up. You lose your head at me for no apparent reason, I stay. You then proceed to get legless and start feeling me up on your kitchen counter. I am of the belief you can’t give your consent when you can barely walk, so I leave. And you’re mad at me? Really Aaron are you listening to yourself?”

Silence.

A deep sigh came through the phone. It wasn't an annoyed sigh though; more exhausted. Guilty. You let yourself soften for a second.

“I’ll take that as a no then?”

“I think I came into this with the wrong tone.” For the first time today he actually sounded apologetic. 

“What tone were you going for?”

You could almost hear his smile down the phone, “Well I was trying to go for a more ‘I don’t want you thinking I didn’t call because I didn’t want to. And the only reason I didn’t show up at your door Saturday morning was because I felt I’d already crossed a boundary and didn’t want to make things worse’ tone.”

Eyebrows raised, you paused, “Oh.”

He chuckled, “Yes. Oh.”

A smile crept onto your face, “Y’know you really should’ve led with that.”

“Thank you for the constructive criticism.” 

Smirking, you answered, “Anytime.” You thought for a moment, “I’m sorry for coming in all guns blazing earlier. I probably could’ve handled that better, but the avoiding looking at me thing made me see red, I won’t lie.”

“No, no you had every right. It wasn’t professional. I’m sorry.” He paused, “I mean it, I am.”

“I know.”

You could definitely feel him smiling down the phone now. “So I won’t be getting a call from HR?”

You chuckled, “No, no you’re in the clear I promise.” 

“So I… I didn’t cross any lines?”

You smirked, “If you did, you weren’t alone.”

“No, I suppose I wasn’t, was I?” You felt his tone change slightly. It could be your imagination, but his voice sounded deeper. 

You decided it was your imagination. “Nope, that was a team effort.”

“Don’t say that, now I’m thinking of the BAU.”

Laughter bubbled up your throat, “Oh you must’ve been drunker than I thought, you don’t remember Morgan showing up?”

He chuckled before groaning, “Stop now I’m thinking about kissing Morgan.”

You put on an exaggerated voice of interest, “Wow so am I now.”

You both snickered for a few minutes.

“Is that your type then?” Aaron asked through the laughter, “The Derek Morgan’s of the world?”

You kept laughing, but you were a little surprised at how brazen he was being. In the end, you shrugged, “Well I do tend to go for the tall, dark and handsome type.”

You caught your tone changing and, despite logic screaming in the corner, curiosity took over. You were just 2 co-workers talking on the phone. How badly could it end?

“Do you?” You tried not to notice as your tones matched up, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A noncommittal noise escaped your throat, “Yeah, 2 out of 3 isn’t too bad.”

He chuckled, “You’re impossible.” He sounded far too blissed out and fond to be mad.

“You love it.” 

He didn’t miss a beat, “I do.” 

You felt a blush begin to rise up your body; the memories of him moaning your name and growling into your mouth as you kissed raced through your head. Suddenly you felt the need to open a window. 

“What about you?” You tried to steer the conversation away from you.

“Hmm?”

“What kind of women does SSA Aaron Hotchner go for?”

He chuckled again, “Historically? They’re few and far between.”

“Oh come on, you don’t have a type?”

“I suppose I’m just not as shallow as you, Y/N.”

You decided to come at it from a different angle. “I guess that's about right, now that you mention it. Can’t see you going on too many dates.”

A bark of laughter came from the phone, “Oh you don’t think so?”

Biting your bottom lip to hold in a laugh, you carried on, “Well, I mean ones that don’t have an hourly rate.”

You could still hear the amusement in his voice though it seemed to be getting clouded by something else. “I strike you as the kind of man who goes to brothels?”

“No shame in sex work, boss, you know better than that.”

A low chuckle came from the phone, “No not at all, I’ve just never had to pay for it.”

‘It’ rang through your head like an alarm bell. You think your logic was hitting the walls inside your head, screaming somewhere to change the subject. However curiosity had now been joined by lust and the 2 were an unbeatable team. 

“You sound confident.”

“Well yes Y/N I think I’d remember paying someone for sex.”

Oap he said it. No backing out now.

“I don’t know Aaron, I’ve seen you in some drunken stupors, you positive?”

He laughed properly this time, almost devoid of lust. “I’m starting to get offended now, you really think I’d struggle to have a one night stand?”

You decided to break your own personal fourth wall, “Well I’ve seen your moves Hotch, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You seemed to enjoy what you saw.” 

The humour was slowly starting to leave the conversation and you could see it taking a very different route very soon. You were already turned on and you were now almost positive his voice was deeper, never mind the times you heard his breath hitch. You briefly think your logic has simply packed up and went on holiday. You didn’t mind. 

“I’ve had better.” 

“How?”

You paused, “What?” 

“Tell me how to do better then, if you’re such an expert.”

A challenge. He knew you far too well, you couldn’t back down from this. 

“Well maybe don’t get drunk beforehand. Makes it very hard to consent.” 

“We’ve been over that Y/N. Tell me something new. How would I seduce you?”

Your mind drew a blank; you hated how good at this he was. You decided on setting him a challenge.

“We never said anything about it being me specifically, that’s not fair.” 

You could almost hear his breathing pick up, “Why isn’t it fair?”

“You don’t think I’d be at a disadvantage if you knew how to turn me on and I had to guess with you?”

“With you? It doesn’t take much.”

You hated how much this was working for you. “Come on now Aaron,” You almost purred, “be specific.”

You heard him curse under his breath. You chuckled, “That good am I?”

He faltered, “No, well yes but- no Garcia’s calling me. I’ll call you back.”

The energy had changed dramatically, “Oh, yeah of course.”

The call ended. Slowly your logic came back and she wasn’t happy. 

Did you just almost have phone sex with your boss?

You put your head in your hands, but before you could properly scold yourself, your phone went off. It wasn’t Hotch calling though. He had texted you. 

\--Case. Wheels up in an hour. We’ll talk later.--

You decided God had a funny sense of humour and to get your shit together. Physically and emotionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys!! Just wanted to say a massive thank you for the response I've gotten for this! I'm not overexaggerating when I say I get a buzz off of every Kudos and Comment. I know how much we all need some escapism so after this fic is all wrapped up I'll be posting more of my stuff that I have on lock, including a 50k+ HotchxReader fic ;)
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter and can't wait for yous to read the ending!!
> 
> Much love to you all xx


	6. Chapter 6

The case was bad, as they always were. The girl, Anna, had been reported missing less than 2 hours ago in a small town in Idaho; because of the length of time it took to get there you all ended up working as much of the case as you could from the air. You’d ended up with a good suspect pool and you were all hoping you’d get the young girl back before anything even more sinister happened to her.

The local police department were more than helpful which made a nice change and already had everything set up for you all arriving. Hotch was quick to assign everyone jobs which had you and he going to the abductee’s home. Due to the case, you hadn’t thought much about the phone call you’d had just a few hours ago. It didn’t properly register with you until around halfway through the flight; you knew you had to have a serious conversation with yourself about what you wanted. You had a habit of repressing feelings or not dealing with them in hope they would just go away. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore anything about Hotch, let alone your feelings for him.

You also knew you needed to have the same conversation with Hotch, eventually. You didn’t think a drive to a victim’s house would be the right time for that, but what can you do?

After a few comments on the case, the silence set in. He took the first step. Kind of.

“So…” You could tell by his tone what he was about to reference. “How’re you feeling?”

You shot him a look, “Care to be more specific?”

You could see his expression change back to stern. “I’m sorry if I did anything that made you uncomfortable when we were- on the phone.”

Smirking, you asked, “Oh you mean when you asked me to tell you what turns me on?”

White flashed across his knuckles as he drove, “I crossed a line, I know. I’-”

“Is there a line anymore?” His brows furrowed slightly, you chuckled, “It’s been a while since I’ve even had a line in my peripheral vision.”

He looked back out at the road. “No. No I suppose you’re right.”

You pulled into the street of the victim’s house.

“We can deal with this later.”

He nodded, “Later.”

The two of you didn’t interact much after that which was probably for the best. There was too much unresolved tension now to hide from your colleagues. Emily had already asked if the two of you had had a fight. 

“I’m just saying,” she began as the two of you walked out of the station, “usually he keeps you where he can see you.”

You shot her a look.

“I don’t mean like that,” she faltered, “Okay, so a bit like that. Is it something to do with him calling you into his office yesterday?”

You tried not to let on, “Emily I’ve already told you, that was about a missing piece of paperwork.”

She gave you a once over, looking for a sign you were lying. “...Alright, if you’re sure.” 

You let out a light laugh, “I’m starting to think you just don’t like being partnered with me.”

“Oh completely, can’t stand you.” She said with a smile and a wink. 

She had a point though, and the team had noticed. Everytime Hotch had split the team up since the beginning of the case, he seemed to want you out of the station and as far away from him as possible. Which would be fine! If he didn’t usually partner you with himself. This meant the team shared a look whenever you were sent elsewhere and you had to just try to look like you hadn’t noticed. 

It didn’t take long for you to call Anna’s school bus driver in for questioning; he was a loner and after some light background checks from Garcia, you found he had a juvenile record. Yourself, Morgan and Rossi saw him come into the building. Your jaws dropped.

“Holy Mary.” Rossi muttered.

You nodded. 

The man was huge. Not just in stature, though he stood at around 6’5. He must’ve weighed over 300 pounds. 

“Well,” Morgan slighted, “I guess now there’s no question as to whether he could overpower his victims.”

“Who d’you think should interview him?” you asked, turning your attention back to your 2 colleagues.

Morgan shrugged, “Hotch will want to try and intimidate the guy, probably.”

You grimaced, “We’d all need to go in to try and unsettle that guy.”

Rossi shook his head, “We might be better trying to offer him an out. See if the remorse has set in.”

You weren’t wondering for long, as you all reconvened moments later. 

“Morgan I want you on the phone to Garcia,” Hotch started, “try and access his personal devices. Prentiss and Rossi I want you to go to the school and see his employment records. Reid I want you in the booth; look for microexpressions and changes in language. Even if he doesn’t physically tell us, he’ll give something away about where Anna is.” He turned to you, “Y/L/N I want you in with me.”

You nodded, trying to not let your surprise show.

As the team dispersed, you made your way over to Hotch who was standing looking at the case boards. 

“So,” you said, picking up a file, “What do we know about this guy apart from the fact he moonlights as a blimp.”

He shot you a quick glare but you could see the corners of his mouth tugged up. “Kyle Caine, 32, single, lived here his entire life. Spent a brief time in Lewiston Detention centre when he was 12 after he attacked a neighborhood girl with a smashed bottle.”

You tossed his file back on the table, “Charmer.” You turned to face Hotch, “So how do you want to do this?”

You quickly settled on a strategy and went to work. With Hotch grilling the guy and you aggravating his remorse, the team were able to get to Anna in under an hour. It was impressive work for the two of you, definitely one of your better interrogations. It was almost 2am by the time you all had everything squared away at the station and were able to return the girl to her family. Luckily, Caine hadn’t done anything to her physically yet. Whether she’d recover mentally or not was less of a guarantee, but you had high hopes for the girl. 

Since it was so late and you were all exhausted, Garcia made sure you had a hotel and a late flight the next day. Good God did you all need it. The hotel was small, but the rooms were comfortable and cosy and exactly what you wanted at that moment.

Despite how exhausted you were, you couldn’t get to sleep right away. You put it down to being overtired, but you knew what it was. You never slept well on location. Your brain was always on high alert; you found it so difficult to relax. You remembered the best night sleep you’d had was in Pfleugerville, Texas, and you thought it might have had something to do with hearing Emily snoring lightly in the other bed. Of course, this was excluding your one time cuddling session with Hotch. You hadn’t felt that relaxed in you don’t know how long. The job meant a lonely life, you knew this. You just didn’t expect it to hit you that hard.

After around an hour of tossing and turning, you grabbed your book from the nightstand and switched on the light. It had only been around 20 minutes when you heard a knock at your door. You checked the time; 3:39am.

You shuffled up to the door and looked through the keyhole. You quickly opened the door, panicked. 

“What’s wrong?”

Hotch gave you a stare, “Sorry?” 

You gave him a quizzical look, “What’s happened? Is there something wrong with Anna?”

Hotch continued just to stare at you. You connected the dots.

“Oh you were just...um.” You gave him a slightly bashful look. 

“I couldn’t sleep, and I was going to take a run when I saw the light under your door.” He looked slightly embarrassed. You smiled.

“No, no its fine! I’m just glad nothings wrong.”

You stood in a slightly awkward silence for a second. You weren’t sure what to do; your instincts were telling you to say you were just about to go to sleep. What good thing could come from you inviting him in? 

But you were exhausted. And the room was cold. You wanted him here, with you. At least just for tonight.

“Do you want to come in?”

A small smile graced his face, “Yes, thank you.”

You gave him a once over as he walked past you into the room. He had on a light grey t-shirt and what looked like a cross between pyjama bottoms and sweatpants. It was definitely down to the casual clothes and low lighting, but he looked so soft like this. The urge to crawl into his lap like a cat was quickly shoved down as you closed and locked the door. 

He stood, seemingly unsure what to do with himself, in the middle of the room. You could almost see the thought bubble appear next to his head, ‘Where’s the least presumptuous place to sit?’. You had a small smile as he sat carefully on the end of your bed, far away from the side you’d clearly been lying on. 

“What were you reading?” He asked, gesturing towards your book-ladden nightstand. 

“Alias Grace! You read it?”

He shook his head. “I saw the netflix show though, I think. About the woman accused of homicide?”

You nodded vigorously, “It’s more than that though, Margaret Atwood is a genius. It’s a masterclass in writing a descent into madness.”

His brow furrowed, “I don’t remember her going mad?” His gaze followed you as you went and sat back in the place you’d been lying, this time with your legs in a basket.

“She didn’t, Doctor Jordan on the other hand…”

He laughed, “I think mad is an over exaggeration.”

“You haven’t read the book.” You looked at him with raised eyebrows, a smile ghosting your lips.

He stood up and walked over to your side of the bed, picking up the book, “Maybe I will read it, if anything just to argue with you.”

The smile that had been dancing around you finally came into fruition as you chuckled, “Did it occur to you that you might just agree with me?” You asked as he sat down (granted, around 2 feet away from you) on your side of the bed. 

“Not possible.” He answered playfully while reading the blurb. 

You reached over and grabbed the book back, “Well you won’t be borrowing my copy.”

You both laughed lightly as a slight lull came in the conversation. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. More like you’d both let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. It was peaceful and relieving, honestly. You got lost in your own head for a second, thinking about what his shirt would feel like under your palms. Or how his hands would feel holding you against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat against your ear. You got so lost in these thoughts, it took you a second to register he had said something. 

“Sorry?” You said, as you zoned back in. 

“I said it’s not exactly easy reading. Could you not sleep?”

You shook your head, “Just overtired I think.”

He gave you a sceptical look, but you kept talking, “What about you? Who decides to go for a jog at 4am?”

“Someone who needs to be tired out I suppose.” He saw you almost immediately freeze up, “Not that thats why I’m h-” he sighed, “That’s not how I meant that to sound.” He sounded panicked.

You glanced over to him, “I know, it's fine.” 

A less comfortable silence set in; filled with weighted questions and feelings and late nights and phone calls and tension-

“I can go?” He barely whispered. You looked up at him, “If you want to slee-”

“No! No I…” You looked at each other, both of you unsure and tired. A slew of things you could say swam through your head. A thousand excuses, a million jokes. And finally, the truth. 

“I don’t sleep well, especially on location.” You shrugged, “I sleep better with someone else there.”

You saw the cogs turn in his head as he realised what you were asking, in your own proud way. He let out the softest “Oh” you’d ever heard, to the point you questioned if you heard it all. 

“You can go, if you want. There’s no pressure.” You gave him as sincere a smile you could muster. There was pressure. You both knew it. You pulled your knees up to your chest as you watched him try to make a decision. It was silent again for a few moments. 

“Yo...You sleep better? With someone in the room with you?”

You nodded, your head resting on the tops of your knees.

He looked at the wall for a couple seconds, before kicking off his trainers. “It’s nothing we’ve not done before, I suppose.”  
You tried to hide your smile, nodding as you pulled your duvet over your legs, “Exactly. You’re just doing me a favour. As a colleague.”

He let out a slightly exasperated laugh while taking off his watch and putting it on the nightstand, “Yeah, a favour for a colleague.”

He crawled into the otherside of the bed, making sure there was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you. You pulled the duvet around you, starting to shiver from the cold. The lamp was still on and you considered, for a millisecond, leaving it on so you could see him. Not in a creepy ‘I wanna watch you sleep’ way. In a ‘this is the most domestic I’ve ever seen you and I like it’ way. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Aaron.”

You switched off the lamp and settled into the bed. You were both unnaturally still; almost like if you moved too fast or unsettled the air, one of you would come to your senses. You weren’t sure what the etiquette was for this and it set you on edge. You considered just trying to sleep as you were; impossibly far apart and uncomfortable. You lay there for a good while, trying to come to a conclusion, attempting to count sheep. 

But you were now dying to know if his shirt was as soft as it looked. If he’d hold you the way he did before. If he’d let you go again. 

You rolled over to face him. He was lying on his back with his hands clasped over his chest. It was too dark to tell if his eyes were open. You watched him sleep (just for a minute). Or at least breathe. There was no way of telling if he was sleeping without talking- breaking the spell the long hours and sexual tension had cast over him. In those quiet minutes you thought about it all. You thought about your resentment for each other when you first joined the BAU. You remembered getting shot; a pain ran through your shoulder. You remember that first look of pride and how you bathed in it. The drunk calls. The laughs. The drinks. The touches. The love. 

The Love. 

It washed over you all of a sudden, the realisation. At some point, between the drinking and the fighting and the cases and the giggle fits you’d fallen in love with this man. And it took you until now to see it. You had only fallen in love a few times in your life, but it had been years. For a second you were excited, the bolt of lightning that always comes with knowing you were in love shooting through your entire body. You wanted to tell someone; brag about your new found feelings. That was when you realised the first person you wanted to tell was lying only a few feet away. 

What did you have to lose at this point, really?

“Aaron? Are you awake?”

Silence. His breathing was even. There was every chance he was asleep and oblivious to the epiphany you just had. You sat up so you were facing him, your head resting against your hand. 

“You can have my copy of the book.” You whispered, taken aback slightly by the sound of your won voice. “You can have anything you want from me. You already have my first thought in the morning.” You paused. “You’d cringe at that if you were awake.” You almost let yourself laugh, “Fuck me Aaron I think I love you. Your smile, on the rare occasions I get to see it. I love your eyes. I love how self conscious you get if you’ve not shaved for more than a week. I love the way you hold me, how safe I feel when you’re around.” You might’ve teared up, you’d never admit it if you did. “ I shouldn’t, you’re an arrogant dick a lot of the time.” You let yourself reach out and run the back of your fingers lightly against his arm. “But here I am, saying this tooth achingly sweet shit to you as you sleep. I feel like a character from a Nancy Meyers movie.” 

His breathing hadn’t changed. You continued to watch him for a few more minutes. 

“I Love You. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

You lay back down in bed and shut your eyes, feeling as though a weight had been lifted. Like you’d been carrying something invisible around with you the past year without even knowing it. 

The room was back to being silent. 

“What’s wrong with today?”

Your eyes shot open. You turned to see his silhouette facing you in the dark. The mirror crack moment had happened and you desperately wanted the mattress to swallow you whole. 

“I’m sorry,” you started quietly, “I thought you were asleep. I didn’t want to-”

He positioned himself, so you were once again caged in by his arms, but it was different this time. There was a different kind of tension in the air. Like you were waiting on an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. You could see his face in the dark now; the look in his eye was desperate and distracted. He almost looked like he was dreaming.

Jesus, you loved him. 

“Don’t apologise. God don’t apologise to me for that.” His head had dropped to your shoulder and you could feel the heat of his breath going down your chest. Your hands almost instinctively went and started rubbing circles on his back. 

He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. You’d both closed your eyes. The silence set in for a minute while you just held each other. You let yourself feel cherished for a moment; to feel safe and held and important with another person. Afterall, you didn’t know what was coming after this. He could turn around and say he didn’t feel the same or confess his undying love for you, there was no way of knowing. 

So for just a moment, you pretended. You pretended you knew he loved you and you were happy together. You tried to memorise the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the sound of your name on his lips. And it wasn’t until then you realised he was speaking. 

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You didn’t dare open your eyes

“Y/N please look at me.” One of his hands had come up to cup your face and your eyes fluttered. 

The look in his eyes was so completely adoring. He was looking at you, not only like you hung the stars in the sky, but like you designed each and every one of them.

“I have loved you for far too long. I don’t know the exact minute when it happened,” he gave you a soft smile, “you crept up on me.”

You returned the smile, “I know the feeling.”

He began to move you so that you were both lying on your sides facing each other. Holding each other. He was holding you like he was scared of you slipping through his fingers and disappearing forever. A heartache you’d both become accustomed to began to fade. 

One of his hands moved so that his fingers were running through your hair, “Took us long enough.”

You chuckled, “Cut me some slack I only realised around half an hour ago.”

He pulled back to look at you with a fond but amused look on his face, “It took you that long?”

You shrugged, “When did you realise?”

“When you didn’t leave, after I...” He trailed off.

You smiled, “I know.” The argument in his kitchen felt like years ago now. A distant memory from another time. You didn’t care that he didn’t call. Or that he couldn’t look at you. He was here now, and he was holding you. He loved you. 

He pulled you into him so that your face was crowded into his neck. 

“Y/N?”

You pulled back to look at him, and he kissed you. It was slow and soft and perfect. You let your hands go to his neck as his own settled on your waist. It all hit you at once. He was here, kissing you. He wanted you, has wanted you. 

Suddenly, you couldn’t get enough of him. The contact wasn’t enough, you needed more. Your hands dropped to his torso and started working their way under his shirt. You felt his breath hitch and you smirked. You ran your hands ran over his chest and you could feel the scars left by years of service. You had the overwhelming urge to kiss every place he’d been hurt. It then became apparent that that could be something you could do. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand pulling at your thigh. All at once, you were in the process of messily straddling your boss as his hands slid under your tshirt. You could feel the rough calluses on his hands running gently over your skin, almost like he was handling glass. Like he was afraid of breaking you. You pulled away from the kiss and he groaned. 

“You’re touching me like you think I’m gonna leave.” You laughed. 

He didn’t. The look on his face solemn, almost scared. You understood. 

You placed hands on either side of his face, “I’m not going anywhere, Aaron. You’re not going to frighten me away. You’re not going to break me.”

If you had blinked, you would’ve missed it; something dark flashed across his eyes and his grip on your waist tightened. You raised an eyebrow.

“Or would you like to?” You leaned down so that your forearms were lying on either side of his head, your lips next to his ear. 

“How many times have you thought about this?” You purred, “About me?”

His hands sunk lower, gripping hard onto your hips as he practically growled your name in your ear. 

“Have you came thinking about me, sir?”

Suddenly, he had both hands on your shoulders pushing you back. You were both sitting up, his legs between your thighs. He had a hungry look in his eye and, without much warning, his mouth was devouring yours. His arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you slightly so that he could move his legs out from under you. You felt like you were drowning in him; like there was nothing in this room that wasn’t his. Including you. 

He pulled back from the kiss and lay you down on the bed. Your hands immediately went to hold his face again, but he stopped you. He grabbed one hand and pinned it above your head. Your eyes widened, more out of curiosity than surprise. 

“And the other one.” He said, low and concise. 

Your hand flew up to hold its counterpart. He chuckled, “Good. Good girl.”

Suddenly a praise kink you didn’t know you had appeared, and you ran with it. He continued. 

“If you don’t like anything tell me. Clear?” 

You nodded vigorously, your excitement beginning to show in your flushed appearance and the feeling that was pooling in your gut.

He gave you a smile, letting go of your hands. “They don’t move until I say. Yes?”

“Yes.” You answered breathlessly. 

His arms wrapped under your waist so your back arched and his mouth latched onto your neck. You let your head fall back so that he had full and complete access. You got lost in the feeling of his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. 

“The answer was yes, by the way.”

Dazed, you gave him a quizzical look. He repositioned himself so you could feel his cock straining against his sweatpants. “I have came thinking about you. Many times.”

Your heartbeat raced in a way that you felt everywhere. Your breath caught in your throat.

“That does make me wonder,” He breathed, “have you?” 

“Aaron,” you whimpered, desperate for more contact. You were now fully frustrated and wanton. Your sense of pride got lost sometime after he called you ‘good girl’ and you liked it. . 

“Have you gotten home from work one day,” His hand moved from around your waist to between your legs, rubbing you through your pyjama shorts, “and touched yourself like this thinking about me?”

Your hands were itching to move but you did as you were told, “Aaron-”

“Answer me, Y/N.” 

“Yes.” You murmured, enjoying the feeling of his rough fingers rubbing small circles over your clit. 

“Louder.” 

“Yes, Aaron.” You moaned. 

You heard a sound vibrate through his chest that could only be described as a growl. His pace picked up and your breath quickened. You could feel your nails leaving marks on your hand from how tight your grip was. 

“What did you think about, Y/N?”

You were struggling to focus but tried as hard as you could for him. “You. Always you. Doing this.”

“Specifics.” He sounded breathless and you could feel him slightly grinding himself against your thigh, desperate for friction. “I want specifics.” 

You moaned as he dragged his fingers over the wet spot that had formed on your shorts. “Bruises. You’d always leave bruises.”

He almost chuckled, “Would I? Do you like that? The idea of me leaving you sore?” He let out a shaky breath, “marking what’s mine?” 

With everything he was saying your orgasm crept closer and closer. You could feel it building up, feeling tighter and tighter. Your toes curled and just as you were about to come, he stopped. 

You let out a noise of protest as he moved his hand to hold your face, “There now kitten, I want to feel you around me when you come. Okay?”

You shuddered at the pet name and nodded. He quickly shucked off his shirt and sweatpants as you watched. Finally his hard cock was released and you could get a good measure of him. It sounded cliche, but you held back licking your lips as he stroked his length in anticipation. As he did this he gave you a quick but passionate kiss, before pulling your shorts off of you. You bucked your hips up so he could rip them off you with one hand. 

Then, he was kissing you again, one hand stroking himself and the other under your shirt, massaging one of your breasts. You took the hint and quickly sat up and took off your t-shirt. Before you could lie back down, he stopped you. He held both of your arms and gave you a truly appreciative look; you could only describe it as someone looking at a piece of lost art. You blushed under the scrutiny, before he spoke. 

“God, I love you.” He said, as he ran hands over each of your thighs, looking at you like you were truly spectacular.

You smiled before lying down, kissing him all the while. 

He pulled back after a few heated moments and held up his fingers, which you happily took into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his rough, calloused fingers before he lowered them, running them up and down your entrance. You could feel your excitement pooling in you again, and you moaned.

“Do we need protection?”

You shook your head, “I’m clean and on birth control.” 

He nodded, before starting to push a finger into you. Then another. And another. He then started using his thumb to continue his motions from earlier. Soon, you were once again writhing under him, desperate and shameless. A tiny part of you was affronted by how transparent you were about how much you wanted him, how much you were enjoying this. But it was quickly converted by the rest of you that was just utterly dying for him to fuck you. 

At the edge of your climax he stopped again, leaving you whimpering and frustrated beyond all hell. You weren’t left wanting for long though, as he had his prick lined up with the entrance to your cunt. All while this was happening your hands had stayed dutifully above your head, though you were sure your nails had drawn blood from how tight you’d been gripping. As he entered you, he kissed you. You were both left moaning and you felt your body allow for his length. 

“Fuck you feel incredible, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but smile under the praise. Slowly he started to move in you and you both moaned. Your hands had stayed in place but you were dying to touch him, hold him. 

“Aaron,” You whimpered, “Please, please let me…”

He glanced up at your hands before smirking, “You lasted longer than I thought you would.” His head dropped so he was once again sucking and nibbling at your neck. “Always so good for me.” He murmured. 

You vowed in your head to never argue with him again. 

He sat up slightly, never leaving you, and kneeled before swinging each of your legs over the tops of his thighs. He pulled you closer to him creating a forceful thrust and you cursed under your breath. With one hand grabbing the headboard and the other gripping the sheets, he was leaning over you in a way that made you feel like it was just the 2 of you in the whole world. Like nothing else mattered. 

“You can move them now.”

Your hands immediately flew up to his neck as you pulled him in for a kiss. His pace picked up and you moaned into his mouth, overwhelmed. 

“Do you have any idea,” he said between grunts, “how sinful you look like this? Christ…”

His pace was becoming erratic and between the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you and the things he was saying you were unbelievably close. 

“Aaron,” you moaned, “I’m- I’m gonna...”

He took his hand off the headboard and scooped you up by your waist so that you were straddling his thighs, all the while he hadn’t stopped fucking you. He thrusted up hard and fast, all the while a chorus of ‘fuck’, ‘so good for me’s and ‘I love you’s rang through the air. You came with him holding you close to his chest, whimpering out his name between moans. He followed shortly after, grunting, swearing and saying your name like a prayer. 

Slowly he pulled out of you and you both lay down in the bed. Spent was putting it lightly as you both panted, facing the ceiling. There was so much you wanted to say to him; mostly to make sure this wasn’t some kind of trick or elaborate prank. You turned to face him, but he was already looking at you. His smile was soft, with his lips barely parted, and the look in his eyes was almost unbearably fond. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

For a second his smile faltered and confusion crossed his eyes, but as quick as it was there it was gone. Then he was leaning over you, one hand resting on your cheek. 

“I’ve made some questionable decisions in my life, Y/N. But this isn’t one of them. If you want me, I’m yours. Completely. I’ve wanted you since I met you. I’ve loved you for God knows how long. If you feel even a tenth as much love for me as I feel for you, I couldn’t ask for more than that.”

You smiled up at him, before pulling him into a kiss. It was lazy and messy, but neither of you cared. 

“You’re getting soft in your old age boss.” 

You both spent the rest of the night laughing and talking like you always did, except now you could reach out and touch, kiss. There were no more lines. This time, when you woke up to strong arms and a steady breath in your ear, you didn’t need to quietly get up and leave. 

This time you turned around, kissed his forehead and fell back into a deep, safe, loving sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to you all! Here's my Christmas gift to you ;) 
> 
> Hope yous have enjoyed the last chapter and I'm sorry for taking a little longer than usual to upload. Any feedback is so much appreciated as this is my first time publishing this kind of fic. Thank you for every Kudos and Comment and Bookmark! Really means the world to me
> 
> Much love and see you all soon!


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